break I forced myselfaround the corner to the barber shop. Same thing! I got all lathered upall right, holding myself by force in the chair. But, before the barbercould touch the razor to my face, the burning started again.
I stopped him. I couldn't take it.
And then suddenly the idea came to me that an electric razor would bethe solution. It wasn't, actually, just an idea; it was positiveknowledge. Somehow I knew an electric razor would do it. I picked oneup at the drug store around the corner and took it to the office.Plugged the thing in and went to work. It was fine, as I had known itwould be. As close a shave? Well, no. But at least it was a shave.
Another thing was my approach to--or retreat from--drinking. Not that Iever was a real rummy, but I hadn't been one to drag my feet at aparty. Now I got so moderate it hardly seemed worth bothering with atall. I could only take three or four drinks, and that only about once aweek. The first time I had that feeling I should quit after four, Itried just one--or two--more. At the first sip of number five, Ithought the top of my head would blast off. Four was the limit. Rigidlyenforced.
All that winter, things like that kept coming up. I couldn't drink morethan so much coffee. Had to take it easy on smoking. Gave up iceskating--all of a sudden the cold bothered me. Stay up late nights andchase around? No more; I could hardly hold my eyes open after ten.
That's the way it went.
I had these feelings, compulsions actually. I couldn't control them. Icouldn't go against them. If I did, I would suffer for it.
True, I had to admit that probably all these things were really goodfor me. But it got to where everything I did was something that wasgood for me--and that was bad. Hell, it isn't natural for a youngfellow just out of college to live like a fussy old man of seventy witha grudge against the undertaker. Life became very dull!
About the only thing I could say for it was, I was sure healthy.
It was the first winter since I could remember that I never caught acold. A cold? I never once sniffled. My health was perfect; never evenso much as a pimple. My dandruff and athlete's foot disappeared. I hada wonderful appetite--which was lucky, since I didn't have much otherrecreation left. And I didn't even gain weight!
Well, those things were nice enough, true. But were they compensationfor the life I was being forced to live? Answer: Uh-uh. I couldn'timagine what was wrong with me.
Of course, as it turned out the following spring, I didn't have toimagine it. I was told.
II
It was a Friday. After work I stopped by Perry's Place with FredSchingle and Burk Walters from the main accounting office. I was hopingit would turn out to be one of my nights to have a couple--but no. Igot the message and sat there, more or less sulking, in my half of thebooth.
Fred and Burk got to arguing about flying saucers. Fred said yes; Burk,no. I stirred my coffee and sat in a neutral corner.
"Now look here," said Burk, "you say people have seen things. Allright. Maybe some of them have seen things--weather balloons, shadows,meteors maybe. But space ships? Nonsense."
"No nonsense at all. I've seen pictures. And some of the reports arefrom airline pilots and people like that, who are not fooled byballoons or meteors. They have seen ships, I tell you, ships from outerspace. And they are observing us."
"Drivel!"
"It is not!"
"It's drivel. Now look, Fred. You too, Johnny, if you're awake overthere. How long have they been reporting these things? For years. Eversince World War II.
"All right. Ever since the war, at least. So. Suppose they were spaceships? Whoever was in them must be way ahead of us technically. So whydon't they land? Why don't they approach us?"
Fred shrugged. "How would I know? They probably have their reasons.Maybe they figure we aren't worth any closer contact."
"Hah! Nonsense. The reason we don't see these space people, Fred myboy, admit it, is because there aren't any. And you know it!"
"I don't know anything of the damned sort. For all any of us know, theymight even be all around us right now."
Burk laughed. I smiled, a little sourly, and drained my coffee.
I felt a little warning twinge.
Too much coffee; should have taken milk. I excused myself as the othertwo ordered up another round.
I left. The conversation was too stupid to listen to. Space creaturesall around me, of all things. How wrong can a man get? There weren'tany invaders from space all around me.
_I was all around them._
All at once, standing there on the sidewalk outside Perry's Bar, I knewthat it was true. Space invaders. The Earth was invaded--the Earth,hell! _I_ was invaded. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew all right.I should have. I was in possession of all the information.
I took a cab home to my apartment.
I was upset. I had a right to be upset and I wanted to be alone. Alone?That was a joke!
Well, my cab pulled up in front of my very modest place. I paid thedriver, overtipped him--I was really upset--and ran up the stairs. Inthe apartment, I hustled to the two by four kitchen and, withunshakable determination, I poured myself a four-finger snort ofscotch.
Then I groaned and poured it down the sink. Unshakable determination isall very well--but when the top of your head seems to rip loose like apiece of stubborn adhesive coming off a hairy chest and bounces, hard,against the ceiling, then all you can do is give up. I stumbled out tothe front room and slumped down in my easy chair to think.
I'd left the door open and I was sitting in a draft.
So I had to--that compulsion--go close the door. _Then_ I sat down tothink.
Anyway I _thought_ I sat down to think. But, suddenly, my thoughts werenot my own.
I wasn't producing them; I was receiving them.
"Barth! Oh, Land of Barth. Do you read us, oh Barthland? Do you readus?"
I didn't hear that, you understand. It wasn't a voice. It was allthoughts inside my head. But to me they came in terms of words.
I took it calmly. Surprisingly, I was no longer upset--which, as Ithink it over, was probably more an achievement of internal engineeringthan personal stability.
"Yeah," I said, "I read you. So who in hell--" a poor choice ofexpression--"are you? What are you doing here? Answer me that." Ididn't have to say it, the thought would have been enough. I knew that.But it made me feel better to speak out.
"We are Barthians, of course. We are your people. We live here."
"Well, you're trespassing on private property! Get out, you hear me?Get out!"
"Now, now, noble Fatherland. Please, do not become upset andunreasonable. We honor you greatly as our home and country. Surely wewho were born and raised here have our rights. True, our forefatherswho made the great voyage through space settled first here in afrightful wilderness some four generations back. But we are neitherpioneers nor immigrants. We are citizens born."
"Invaders! Squatters!"
"Citizens of Barthland."
"Invaded! Good Lord, of all the people in the world, why me? Nothinglike this ever happened to anyone. Why did I have to be picked to be aterritory--the first man to have queer things living in me?"
"Oh, please, gracious Fatherland! Permit us to correct you. In the dayof our fathers, conditions were, we can assure you, chaotic. Manyhorrible things lived here. Wild beasts and plant growths of the mostvicious types were everywhere."
"There were----?"
"What you would call microbes. Bacteria. Fungi. Viruses. Terribledevouring wild creatures everywhere. You were a howling wilderness. Ofcourse, we have cleaned those things up now. Today you are civilized--afine, healthy individual of your species--and our revered Fatherland.Surely you have noted the vast improvement in your condition!"
"Yes, but----"
"And we pledge our lives to you, oh Barthland. As patriotic citizens wewill defend you to the death. We promise you will never be successfullyinvaded."
Yeah. Well, that was nice. But already I felt as crowded as a subwaytrain with the power cut out at rush hour.
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But there was no room for doubt either. I'd had it. I still did haveit; had no chance at all of getting rid of it.
They went on then and told me their story.
I won't try to repeat it all verbatim. I couldn't now, since mymemory--but that's something else. Anyway, I finally got the picture.
But I didn't get it all the same evening. Oh, no. At ten I had to knockit off to go to bed, get my sleep, keep up my health. They wereinsistent.
As they put it, even if I didn't care for myself I had to think aboutan entire population and generations yet unborn. Or unbudded, which wasthe way they did it.
Well, as they said, we had the whole weekend to work out anunderstanding. Which we did. When we were through, I didn't like it awhole lot better, but at least I could understand it.
It was